There Was Once A Star
Scrawny black scales crusted against the interior walls of an old fortress. Such a thin dragonet it was, a miserable sight of infected wounds and cuts blended into aged charcoal-colored scales that were flaking and shedding like a million dried leaves falling from a tree. Its one good eye was bloodshot and crusted, the other burnt into the dragonet's face, nothing less than a permanent brand of misery and deception. The thing walked with a limp in its right hindleg, constantly bumping up against wings that were far too defected to fly with. The fortress was nearly two thousand years old, maybe more, made of stone bricks that were some kind of burnt, darkened shade of a forgotten hue. The only windows were barred off with thin metal and stone, doing nothing except amplifying the sensation of fear and helplessness that washed over the dead island; in the distance one could hear savage waves clapping against the eroding cliffs, salty water eating away at hot stone and ash. The dragonet kept walking down many elongated hallways, so silent as to not wake the sleeping figures hidden behind rusted doors and chains. Its breathing was ragged and heavy no matter how slow it walked, and every couple of corners or so it would stop, lay down, and close its eyes, thinking. And then it would get up slowly, tiny trembling claws clicking against old pavement, nose cautiously sniffing the air. Dragons. Bad breath. Death. Fire. No food, no plants to gnaw on. The dragonet had no idea what time it was, no idea how to tell time, no idea what the sun looked like, but it knew when the fortress slept. The dragonet's silver eye guided it through the hallways because it hurt it too much to breath fire and it was afraid of passing out. It had happened again, somewhere down on the bay where dragons would dig relentlessly for seaweed and twigs to eat. The dragonet couldn't remember where exactly, only knew where it was now. But it could remember, at least, two adult dragons jumping at it when it found a small crab, because now its tail was broken at the tip. At least one of the two adults got their neck snapped, and another was dragged away careening the entire time. There was no "doctor" on the dead island. Nobody knew how to mend wounds and they most definitely did not have the supplies to preform such vigorous tasks. They did their best because the weak were left to die peacefully. Nobody knew where except that there was a spot in the depths of the fortress where the rocks were slightly cooler and stalactites reached out on all sides. The darkest and most sacred area of peace. And only the desperate even dared to enter the deepest reaches of the fortress, the desperate and the bleeding out or the guards. The dragonet hopped down a set of rocks that eventually broke out into an old staircase made of cobblestone. It remembered just a little bit, of how its mother used to carry it across sheltered rivers of lava on old stepping stones that left horrifying scars on its mother's feet. The dragonet's feet were constantly aching like its mother's feet, and it subtly noted how happy she had been one day. She had been so happy when she was taken down to the deepest reaches of the fortress. There was no light for what felt like hours, chipping away at the dragonet's very soul as if the lost and the dead were crying out to it. Many tunnels led to different passages, faint dips and skeletal footprints left in the sodden dirt from centuries before. But the dragonet felt more hopeful with every step, walked a little faster with every fresh footprint that it left in the pathway of a hundred thousand other footprints. So hopeful and so frightened that it soon began to race down the tunnels and wind through the passageways, fresh cuts and the sting of sharpened rocks stabbing into its feet like makeshift knives. It stopped too soon and slammed into a dead end, and then it twisted around and ran back, turning to the opened and darkened mouths of new tunnels and caverns. It tripped over skeletons and the rotting withers of old dragons and broken egg shells. It was dark and the dragonet began to pant and reel on its claws, but it kept running, until it ran into the largest cave it had ever seen in its life. Stalactites glowed faintly from the roof of the cave, and the dragonet slowed, breathing heavily. It stared up at a ceiling that glowed endlessly, a thousand shades and tints of blues and greens and purples that the dragonet had only seen in old, charred scrolls. More carefully it stepped over the skulls and wings of the dead, its amazement too much and its mind too scarred to care about the smell and the blood that ran slick down the cavernous walls. The small dragonet centered itself at the middle of the cave and sat down, sobbing to itself immense tears of joy and raw happiness as it rested its torn wings at its malnourished sides and curled its broken tail over a small boulder. And then, a shadow cast over the stalactites, the rocks of the cave rumbling slightly and chipping away as the darkness shifted over towards the dragonet. It squeaked slightly but did not move, just cocked its fragile head to the right and watched a hulking black dragon limp towards it, sniffing around but not locking eyes with the dragonet. "You." Its voice was croaking and ancient, and it echoed around the cave like a ghostly howl. "Where?" The elderly dragon raised its snout and shifted towards the dragonet, only a few steps away from the dragonet. Quiet visibly the dragonet could see the elder's ribs and its scars and realized rather quickly that its face was completely melted, eyes not visible and snout crooked from a wound healed incorrectly. A ghostly pale claw reached out like death itself and rested on the dragonet's face, running down its neck and right arm in a cautious gesture. The elderly dragon arched one part of a melted brow and turned its head to the side slightly. "Dragonet," it rumbled. The larger dragon's claw nearly consumed the dragonet's entire right talon. The elder rested its talons on the dragonet for what felt like an eternitey, but neither moved or spoke to one another until the older one broke the silence. "You. Why are you here?" Its breath was vile and the smell made the dragonet flinch slightly, yellowed teeth and blackened gums glistening in the light of the stalactites. "I wanted to see the stars," the dragonet replied in a quiet voice. "My mother said that they were beautiful. That they came to take you when you died." "How old are you?" "One." "And you're alone?" "Yes." With a scattering of boulders and stones the great dragon let out an exasperated sigh, and followed by what looked like great effort it reared up onto its hindlegs and tapped one of the stalactites thoughtfully. From here the dragonet felt like an ant among birds; the elder dragon was huge, its shoulders shriveled but broad and even more scars visible on its great chest as it heaved a familiar breath every few seconds. It turned its blind eyes down towards the dragonet, revealing a beautiful but scarred sapphire color that glistened in the glowing light of the cave. Still standing with a hardened stare, the elder dragon spoke once more, its words shriveled but still audible due to the great echoing boom of the cave. "Why did you come here?" It took a breath, slamming back down onto all fours with a quaking noise and circling the dragonet as if it were a piece of prey. "Surely you know what's down here. Why would they send a little dragonet down here by itself, if not a wounded one?" The elder tapped the dragonet's broken tail and it flinched painfully, gritting its teeth but maintaining a soldier-esque posture as it was circled still. "I came here myself," the dragon responded indignantly. "All by myself. I got directions from one of the old scholars." The little dragon took a deep breath. It hurt its throat to talk that much at once, and it closed its silver eye for a moment and coughed for several minutes. When the dragonet was done and its one good eye open once more, it was greeted by the elder dragon glowering in the light. "Idiots." The elder puffed out a sharp line of smoke that curled around the air and left a familiar reek in its wake. "Idiots." It sighed and then took a glance down at the dragonet again, who was still determinedly nailed to the ground as if stakes had been driven through its legs. "I guess I should ask exactly why you came here, dragonet. What's your name?" "What's your name?" the dragonet retorted. The dragonet watched the elder tap its chin thoughtfully, or perhaps forgetfully, as it shifted on its hindquarters and sat down in a position much similar to the smaller dragon. "I suspect," it finally said in its creaking voice, "That my name is irrelevant." "You don't have a name?" the dragonet's mouth was agape in surprise. It knew fully well the importance of names within its tribe. "Why not?" "I gave it up." "Why would you give up your name?" "Because I've never found a use for it." Surprisingly, the elder laughed. "I was a scribe. Field researcher. My job was to gather information and report it back to the tribe, or sometimes I'd collect food back when I was younger. Although, we stopped doing it after the flights became too vigorous and our tribe too feeble for the journey." The dragonet then eagerly scooted closer to the elder, its silver eye glowing wide with pure amazement. "You've actually seen the continent? The entire continent?" The elder laughed once again, bemused. "No," it said, putting on an expression that might've been a grin if its face weren't so gone. "No, but I've seen the Sky Kingdom. I've seen clouds of white and blue skies and sunsets and sunrises. Goats fatter than you could ever imagine and trees taller than even me. Little red and orange dragonets about your age and huge soldiers and a castle built into one of the tallest mountains on the map. Three full moons and stars that danced and flickered like a billion wingbeats in a united sky. The elder stared up at the glowing roof of the cave as if in longing, and through the cascades of cool colors the dragonet could see a tear, maybe two, escaping the elder's trapped eyes. Perhaps out of sympathy or some feeling as lost as the brittle bones of the dead dragons around them, the dragonet rested a small, shaking claw on the elder dragon's huge talon. The elder flinched slightly, but it didn't look down, just at the stalactites that flickered off of deep blue and charcoal black scales. They sat in silence for a long time before the elder finally spoke again. But this time its voice was so quiet and rattled that the dragonet had to lean in closely, perking up its ears in order to hear those next few words. "What do you remember, dragonet?" the elder asked. "What do you mean?" the dragonet responded in its hushed and quiet voice. "About your life." The dragonet swallowed hard. It did remember some, even if it didn't want to. It sniffled a little bit, but quickly wiped its nose as to not embaress itself. "Fire, mostly," it said after a while. "I mean, lava. I had a sister, and a Pa, and Pa would always come back to our cave bleeding cause' he got into a fight with the other dragons on the beach. Sister was my age, but she was real small. Real sick, too. Mother didn't know what to do with her after Pa died." "What did she do with your sister?" "Nothin'," the dragonet said, frowning. It shivered, and the elder felt it, and it wrapped one torn wing around the smaller figure. The dragonet sniffled some more and turned away. "But yeah, she got thrown into the lava maybe." "When?" "A few weeks ago, maybe a night or two before my mother went down here." The elder frowned, sympathetic, and curled itself around the dragonet like it was the last flower on the planet. "Your mother isn't here, love. You're mistaken. But why did you come down here?" "I wanted to be with my mother and my pa and my sister in the stars. I heard that the stars went down here cause' you can't see them no more in the night sky." "These aren't stars, love." The elder tapped one of the stalactites as if to prove a point, and then broke one off and placed it down on a large boulder. "They're stalactites." The dragonet frowned, looking defeated. It stared at the stalactite and then shot up, giving the elder a desperate look as it grabbed the stalactite and began to shake it rapidly. "But they can take me to the stars, right? Right?" The dragonet began to sob helplessly, its wings shrivelling and its tiny head shaking back and forth. "I wanted to see them." Angrily the dragonet threw the stalactite, and although its arms were weak the stalactite hit a wall and quickly shattered with a crumbling noise, the subtle glow fading from the crystal-like formation. "They're dead," the elder said. Perhaps realizing the harshness of its own words, it folded in its wings and picked up the dragonet carefully before placing it back on the ground. The dragonet stared at the dirty floor and wrapped its wings around its head in defeat. The elder tapped it lightly. "I'm sorry, youngling." "I'm going to see them. Help me see them." "You want to die?" "Yes. I want to die." The elder stared on blankly. "Why?" "I know how it is!" the dragonet growled, sniffing away its remaining feeble sobs. "If I ain't starvin', I'm fightin'; if I ain't dyin', then someone else is or they're bein' exiled or dyin'." "You can leave the island in nine years." "It's not enough!" the dragonet wailed. "It will never be enough!" The elder let out a shaky breath, trying to hold back its own desperate protests, and once again wrapped itself around the dragonet. As it tried to escape the older dragon simply pushed it back down with one of its great claws, trapping the dragonet in a prison of sapphire and black scales. "I'm going to tell you another story." The elder said. The dragonet gave it an irritated look, but didn't attempt to fight back anymore than it already had. "I got to visit the SandWing Queen, once, in this little town near the Sky Kingdom's border. Some meeting between her and this SkyWing diplomat. She had a granddaughter named Oasis - about your age at the time. Of course neither of them had ever seen a NightWing before - we used to trade with the SkyWings from time to time when there wasn't as much hostility, but never with the SandWings." "Little Oasis asked me about the Night Kingdom. She was horrified, invited me to live in the desert with her and her grandmother. Course, the Queen wasn't going to invite a couple thousand NightWings into her tribe, but she didn't mind bargaining me for a little bit of information. Explained that they had food, fresh water, cooling rocks, the works." "But you denied it?" the dragonet mumbled. It was picking at its talons as if uninterested, but its ears were pricked towards the air. "Why'd you do that?" The elder exhaled slowly, more smoke curling around its injured and scarred face. "Because the continent taught me how to be hopeful. My Queen had been sick as well, and I taught her how to be hopeful, too. There used to be a nursery and a medical ward down here to keep the sick away from the healthy, but after we ran out of medical supplies, they dropped me as their head doctor. But I stayed hopeful." The dragonet snorted. "I'm not hopeful. I'm alone." "You have your tribe, dragonet," the elder replied softly. "I'm one hundred and twenty-six years old. There are more dragons in this world than you can ever imagine." Unwrapping itself from the dragonet, the elder slowly limped over to the pile of stalactite pieces and gathered them up in its talon. In the other, it grabbed a new stalactite from the ceiling and placed it in front of the dragonet. "If you're hopeful, you can save your tribe." "And what about you? Why can't you save our tribe?" the dragonet questioned. "Because I've already followed my destiny. You just have to find yours." There was a long silence before the dragonet finally stood up. Its eyes were bruised and its legs like twigs, a face so shrewn and torn like a prune. Claws that shook in an unnatural manner as if the world below it was shaking and rumbling, talons struggling to lift up such a small stalactite. After a great amount of effort it managed to heave the thing onto its aching back, and without giving the elder a second glance it began to totter towards the wide gaping mouth of the cave. "Where are you going, dragonet?" the elder asked softly. The dragonet could barely hear it, but it knew what it was going to say before the question was even asked. "To find my destiny." The elder chuckled as the dragonet shuffled out. Of course it couldn't see it, probably didn't even want to, but the elder smiled so fondly and suddenly remembered a feeling called hope. "Will you at least tell me your name, dragonet?" the elder called, using up its last expanse of energy to gather the dragonet's attention. The young dragon stopped for a long moment, considering, and then turned its head back to the elder. "I'm going to save my tribe." The dragonet puffed out its little chest proudly, the shimmering glow of distant torchlight gleaming off of its black and silver scales. "One day. I'm going to save us all." Grinning with newly discovered hope, the dragonet turned away once more, and it let out a deep breath. "My name is Morrowseer." Category:Fanfictions Category:Fanfictions (Completed) Category:Fanfictions (Semi-Canon) Category:Genre (Short Story) Category:Genre (Adventure) Category:Genre (Tragedy) Category:Genre (Mystery)